First lemony story, so be nice. This chapter is just to set up the story, nothing to exciting! Enjoy!
There was something particularly cold in the air on that fateful December night. Something that nipped at your fingertips, making them withdraw to the warmth of your jacket pockets. The world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next moment, becoming colder, becoming stiller. The only thing that was moving was the figure of a woman, wrapped in dark fur and lace gloves, making her way through the darkened streets of London.
As the woman descended into a lane of small, cottage-like houses, only mice hidden in corners unknown would be able to see the streetlights flicker in her presence, as though cowering before her. The woman had an odd aura around her, one of secrecy and dark intent. Her name was Amelia Demetrias and she was a witch.
Jet black hair hidden beneath a veil of indigo lace, was pushed behind her ears as she hurried on into the night, casting hasty glances behind her as she walked. At every crack through the silence she stopped to listen and held her breath for she was committing the unthinkable. Amelia knew very well that if she were caught she would appeal before her in-laws and endure a painstaking family gathering which would most likely lead to her banishment, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
With the quick utterance of a prayer under her breath, Amelia stopped before a small house. A broken picket fence and unkempt front lawn met her eyes with distaste. She wrinkled her nose in disapproval and walked up to the house, pushing aside the garden gate with a small creak. Three raps of her knuckles on the wooden door were more than sufficient and as she waited for the door to open, she sneaked a look over her shoulder. Shadows were all she saw but Amelia knew too well that shadows were never as they seemed. The door opened slowly.
"Madame Demetrias!" A soft voice squeaked in surprise. A short, pretty woman opened the door and in the glowing light from the hallway, Amelia could see that her efforts would be rewarded. "Come in." Amelia did not speak to the woman, whose brown eyes shot her a confused look before shutting the door behind her. The witch removed her lace veil and looked down at the woman; it was clear Amelia had been crying.
"Grace," Amelia spoke in barely a whisper. "I need your help." The woman called Grace had no smile; she nodded curtly and motioned for Amelia to follow her. "There are talks of banishment." Amelia said quickly, not waiting for Grace to tell her to sit down, she slumped into the living room's only armchair. Grace sat quietly opposite her, looking into the dying fire she had lit hours ago. They sat in semi-darkness, putting the lights on would be too risky, they both knew what was at stake. "Two children, not one of them magical." Amelia spat out, the desperation in her voice beginning to show. "Two sons, not one of them showing any sign of wizarding skill," her voice broke down and she pulled out a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it in front of her mouth. "Henry turns eleven next year, I fear Hogwarts won't write to him!" Amelia stood suddenly, bringing herself to her full height and Grace showed no reaction. "Which family do you work for now?" Grace looked up at her and uttered one word.
"Black." Silence. Neither woman spoke, trying to figure out what was the best course of action to take. Amelia finally saw she was defeated and knelt down in front of Grace, putting her hands on Grace's knees.
"I beg you," Amelia pleaded. "I need a child capable of magic; I need your child." Grace looked down at her with disgust and when Amelia saw that kindness would not work, she used some of the Demetrius family charm. "You will repay your debt to my family." Grace pursed her lips but Amelia could see they were quivering. With all the strength she could muster, putting aside her anger and hurt, Grace placed her hands on top of Amelia's and nodded consent.
"You will love her as your own." Grace commanded. Amelia kissed her hands in thanks before realising what she said.
"Her?"
"You're having a girl."
~Eleven years later~
Amelia Demetrius had aged a great deal over the last eleven years. Her once immaculate hair was now ridden with flyaway strands of silvery hair. Her once beautiful face was now creased and pale from years of worries and heart ache. Now, it was difficult to wear corsets as they seemed to dig deeper at her ribs, almost causing her to suffocate. Her signature indigo dresses, now black, and her lace veil were all that showed the world she was a widow. Too young to be alone, her father-in-law had said, but she did not mind. Without her husband, it was easier to live with the lie.
"Mama!" Said an impatient voice and Amelia's thoughts of her husband became lost as she looked up. She saw her daughter, ten years old, staring at her in the reflection of a mirror.
"Yes, darling, they look perfect." Amelia and her daughter were in the master bedroom of the Demetrius family house, Amelia's bedroom. It was full of antique objects, hundreds of years old that had been passed down through the family. with darkened walls and deep red drapes lining the windows, the old house still had that dark magic charm. Her daughter was trying on her Hogwarts robes for the first time; Madam Malkin had come especially from Diagon Alley just to fit them.
The young girl appraised her mother in the mirror; she had been awfully quiet this whole afternoon. Usually the two of them would order lunch up to her room whenever merchants came to show them goods from across the wizarding world. As Madam Malkin continued sticking pins into the girl's robes, Amelia stood up from her chair and looked at her daughter.
"Leave us." Amelia spoke sternly and Madam Malkin was a little taken aback before the lady of the house realised she had been a little abrupt. "Please, Madam Malkin," she turned to the stout woman in robes that were an alarming shade of yellow, "find your tea served in the study opposite." With a small smile and courteous bow, the esteemed shop owner left the room. Amelia turned to her daughter, "let me look at you."
The ten year old girl was stood on a small stool, in front of three different mirrors, all of which somehow showed her reflection at different angles. She was pretty, like her mother had been, slim and angelic looking, with black curls of hair that she impatiently brushed away and pale skin like the moon. When Amelia had returned from the hospital with her, many family members had been alarmed by the colour of the child's eyes; Violet.
"Violet," Amelia murmured and took her daughter's hands. "You have a beautiful face," she whispered and Violet rolled her eyes.
"Mama why are you so emotional at this time? I'm only going to school!" Violet spoke with impatience but Amelia knew her daughter well; there was a lot of affection in her tone.
"Yes but you're going to be away for most of the year, aren't you?" Her mother said, blinking away tears. "You are so special to me." She said in earnest and Violet could tell there was something bigger going on from the way her mother looked at her. There was a knock on the door. "Enter," Amelia whispered and with a small wave of her hand the door opened. It was their house elf, Willow.
"Madame Black, here to see you, Ma'am," she squeaked, barely visible to Violet who was no longer paying attention.
"Bring her to this room," Violet also did not notice the small smile on her mother's face as she spoke. Amelia looked in the mirror and adjusted her lace veil in front of her face before nudging Violet who pouted in annoyance.
"What is it?" The young witch asked.
"There's someone I want you to meet." As she said this, Willow pushed the door wide open and Amelia and her daughter looked away from the mirrors to see who had entered the room. A woman, with a back that looked to Violet as though someone had fixed a metal pole inside it to keep her upright, walked in. She had sharp black eyes like beetles scuttling around her eyeball, trying to take as much in as possible and wiry grey hair that was scraped back against her scull into a bun. Needless to say Violet did not feel at all comfortable in her presence. But there was someone behind her, looking surly and ill-tempered, a boy that Violet had seen at parties and lavish affairs her parents threw.
"I don't want to be here." A snide whisper came from behind Mrs Black which she seemed to edit out of the conversation with a stern look behind her.
"Amelia," she said in a voice as aged as the skin that hung from her neck.
"Walburga," Violet's mother embraced the woman and as they did so, the two children caught a glimpse of each other.
Violet was unimpressed by the mess of black hair and grey eyes, plus he looked scrawny and passive. She was easily bored by him. The boy shot her back a look of equal disinterest. She looked like every girl her mother had ever introduced him to; perfect skin and hair, angelic looking even, not the kind of person he wanted to talk to. As his mother moved back in line in front of him, his eyes widened a little as he realised why they called her Violet.
"…my father had it imported years ago," Amelia's voice trickled back into the children's ears as they could no longer see each other. Walburga Black pushed her son back into view and Amelia grabbed Violet's hand and brought her down from the stool. "Violet, greet Madame Black," as her mother whispered this, Violet bowed her head.
"Ma'am," she said softly and waited as Walburga took the boy by his shoulder and marched him in front of her. "How do you do, dear?" The woman said and Violet knew she did not want a response. The boy with dark hair nodded to the two women in front of him. "I suppose you and Sirius have become quite good friends at our gatherings?" She said with a false smile and Violet smiled politely.
"Why don't you two talk about your knew school while your mother and I discuss things." Amelia said sweetly to Sirius who was unused to being talked to with affection and nodded at her politely. Amelia and Walburga moved into the upstairs drawing room, leaving the two on their own. They didn't look at each other as Violet removed her robes to reveal, Sirius was unsurprised, a dress that made her look about seven years old. Made of indigo velvet and puffy white shirt sleeves.
"You look ridiculous." Sirius told her and she scowled.
"I'm grateful I don't have your looks at least." They both rolled their eyes and stood in silence. Sirius was about to speak about an escape plan when Violet suddenly realised something. "What was your mother saying about us meeting at gatherings? You never attend. I only know your name because your mum said it and I only know what you look like because Cinnamon…" she faltered a little, "because I've seen you in Diagon Alley." Violet blushed as she realised what Sirius was going to ask. He folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow.
"Who's Cinnamon?" He asked and Violet shrugged.
"Meredith Cinna," she replied, "we call her Cinnamon." Sirius smirked; he hated these overly snobby girls his mother kept talking about.
"Do you have a nickname?" He asked an Violet narrowed her eyes on him. For a moment he was taken aback by their colour; deep pools of violet looked out at him with distaste.
"Demi-god…Demetrius…Demi…" Violet's voice trailed away. They stared at each other for a moment. Each trying to figure the other out.
"I'm leaving," Sirius said suddenly.
"What?"
"I'm going home, I'm bored." He explained slowly and insultingly to the girl.
"Piss off then." She replied and Sirius, who had turned away from her, looked over his shoulder.
"Hardly the talk of a young lady of the house of Demetrius, is it?" As he said this, Violet turned back to her mirror and fixed her hair. For a fleeting moment Sirius had thought she was different but no; there was the vain, posh, annoyingly presentable girl of an old wizarding family. The types of women who Sirius, albeit only ten, knew to avoid. When Violet did not respond, Sirius took that as a sign to leave. He opened up a window and threw himself out of it. Violet laughed to herself; was she supposed to be impressed?
A few seconds past and Violet realised that she was.
Please review :)
